Kenan held his torch up between the man’s face and the roof above. “No. Just my torch. Sorry about that. Here, let me help you, sir.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you.”
Kenan and Shifrah each took the old man by the elbow and escorted him back out into the street in front of the jail where they left him and strolled calmly away. Kenan tossed the still-burning torch into an alley as they passed, and at the top of the street they turned to look down on their handiwork. The entire back of the jail’s roof was burning steadily and smoking mightily, but the fire burned quietly under the whistling sea wind.
Minutes passed. Then they heard the first shout, and then some more. Men yelling. Church bells ringing. Buckets clanging. Water sloshing.
The constables jogged out to consult with the bucket-bearers, and then the lawmen dashed back inside only to emerge again a minute later with the major and the Italian in chains.
“All right,” Shifrah said. “You got them out. But what now? We’ll have half the city down here in the few minutes to put out that fire before it starts spreading from roof to roof. Don’t you think it will be a little difficult to get to him with four hundred people watching?”
Kenan shook his head as he picked at his lip. “No. It’ll be easier. Much easier. And besides. There’ll only be two hundred at most.”
“I’ll bet you one of my shiny Espani reales it will be more.”
Kenan didn’t smile. He didn’t even look at her. He only watched the fire and crowd growing in the street. “Two reales.”
Ten minutes later the fire had spread across the entire roof and leapt to the adjoining building, but the buckets were flying from hand to hand and freezing sea water was flying through the air, splashing and hissing on the roofs. With a creak and a groan, the entire roof of the jail buckled and broke and collapsed within the walls.
“Now.” Kenan started walking down the street, straight into the crowd. It was no tangle of panicking bodies. The men stood in loose lines, passing buckets and sloshing water. Several shovels and axes lay in the street where they’d been deposited by the rallying townsmen, just in case there would be wreckage to clear away later. Kenan stepped over the tools without looking down at them.
The two constables had positioned their prisoners just across the street from the burning jail, pressing the tall man and woman against the cold stones of a house that had already poured out its share of men to fight the fire. Shifrah followed Kenan along the edge of the street, wondering what this angry young man would do. Or at least, what he would try to do.
She remembered some of the angry young men she had known in Eran, the gallant soldiers of Nablus near her home on Mount Gerizim. Quick to drink, quick to laugh, quick to argue, quick to fight, and all too quick to die. She had no particular love for angry young men, and yet they fascinated her. Their passion. Their violence. She had no idea what this one would do next, but she wanted to see.
Kenan swept past the prisoners and the constables and barked out, “Constables, with me. We need to put your prisoners somewhere safe.”
Shifrah marched along at his side as he turned sharply into the next alley to cut over to the next street. To her mild surprise, the constables followed with their prisoners. The older lawman said, “Sir? Sir? I’m sorry, who are you? Where are we going?”
“Somewhere secure,” Kenan said over his shoulder.
“Did General Vega send you?”
“Of course.” They stepped out of the shadows onto the next street, a quiet lane where the moonlight on the snow and ice gleamed a pale blue. Kenan turned. “Do you have the keys to their shackles with you?”
“Yes, of course,” the older constable said, his hand going to his jacket pocket.
“Good.” Kenan grabbed the man’s collar and punched him in the nose.
Shifrah yanked the older man forward and punched him in the throat, leaving him gasping and staring. She pulled a long thin knife from the sheathe on her thigh but Kenan grabbed her wrist. “No killing.”
She smiled. “That’s very sweet, and very stupid.” But when she tried to slice the constable’s throat, the young man’s grip on her tightened. He’s strong for a stringy one. “Fine. No killing.” She reversed the knife in her hand and struck the constable in the temple, and then a second time, dropping him to the ground.
A few feet away, the huge major had his arms around the younger lawman’s neck, gently choking him into oblivion.
Kenan knelt down and found the keys in the constable’s pocket. He removed the major’s restraints and then the Italian woman’s as well. Then they shackled the two constables and stowed the unconscious men on a pile of firewood in a narrow alley. Kenan paused to study his towering companion with a look of tired irritation. “How did they find you?”
The major shrugged. “We were the only people stealing a boat at the time, so it probably wasn’t too hard for them.”
Kenan glared. “I told you not to steal from anyone!”
“Yeah, well, I don’t take orders from children, so clearly we weren’t communicating very well. Don’t worry about it. You got me out of jail, so we’re square. Just don’t do it again.”
“Square?” Kenan shook his head as he walked away down the street.
“And you,” the major turned to Shifrah. “What’s your story? You helping us out or not?”
Shifrah looked from the hulking Mazigh to his younger companion striding away toward the beach. “No. I think I’m helping him now. He had the good sense to not get arrested, and the brains to get you out again.” And she set out after Kenan.
“I saw you at the bar in Ciudad Real, didn’t I?” asked the Italian lady. “Who are you? Who is she, major?”
“I dunno, just some crazy broad looking for someone to mooch off.”
“That was good enough for you at the time, wasn’t it, major?” Shifrah said.
“We both got what we wanted.”
Shifrah sighed. “If you say so. Do you two have names?”
“I’m Syfax. She’s Nicola. You?”
“Shifrah.”
“Nice to meet you,” the major said. “Now what the hell do you want?”
“From you? Nothing.” Shifrah quickened her step to come alongside Kenan. She could see the rage in his face, just barely contained below the skin.
He was cool back there. His plan wasn’t very clever, but it worked perfectly. He was in control. Even his voice was calm and even. But now he’s on the verge of a bloodthirsty tantrum. I wonder how dangerous he could really be.
She glanced back at the major following a few yards behind.
And all because of him. Kenan hates him. I wonder what else he hates.
At the beach Kenan turned to follow the waterline farther and farther from the dim glow of the burning jail and the huge plumes of smoke and steam rising above Malaga.
“Hey kid, slow down,” Syfax called out. “We need to start looking for another boat.”
“No, we don’t.” Kenan kept walking.
“Oh, I see. So you’ve found religion and you plan on walking across the Strait now?”
“No, I found a fisherman willing to sail us to Tingis and I plan on sleeping across the Strait about an hour from now when the tide turns.” Kenan lowered his voice. “Idiot.”
Shifrah smiled. “What exactly did you tell this fisherman?”
He looked at her and some of the darkness clouding his young face faded away. “I told him the truth. I told him that we were foreigners, that we hadn’t done anything wrong, and that we wanted to leave before we were wrongly arrested. I told him we just wanted to get home to our families.”
“You have a family? You’re married?”
“No. I guess I was thinking of the captain and her family, mostly. She’s a good officer, a good person. Smart. Tough. You’d probably like her if you met her.”
Shifrah scratched the edge of her eye patch where it rubbed her cheek. “So where is this captain of yours?”
